Page 79 of Connected

“No thanks, that’s not my jam—the coke, I mean, not the foursome. And thanks, but I’ve got plenty of stayin’ power. Since when do-you-do that shit, anyway?”

“I don’t… well, except maybe special occasions, holidays, birthdays, and… shifter twins.” Rhys laughs, “or maybe when I need to shut your whiney ass out of my head. Hey, don’t knock it, this is the finest grade, Mexican. No additives—makes you feel invincible.”

“Rhys, you act like you’re invincible, anyway. You don’t need to shove that stuff up your nose.”

Digby frowns, sipping his drink, and watches as his brother snorts the neat white line of powder up his nostril. It casts a huge doubt in his mind about what he’s doing here.

“Hey…” Rhys surfaces from the desk. “You wanna do karaoke?”

“What? Um, no… Are you serious? Hell, it’s years since we did karaoke—my vague recollection of the last time—it did not end well, and I remember needin’ a week in recovery.”

“Yeah, but if you hadn’t passed out early, we would have managed a foursome that night. Those two girls—hell, they were on fire. Do you remember? That one, what was her name… oh I don’t know, but she gave me the best blow job I ever had.”

“Seriously… No. No, I don’t remember that.”

“Really… well, I could’ve sworn it was with you. Shit, I wonder who the hell I was with then? I must’ve been more fucked up that night than I realized. Could’ve sworn it was you. I don’t think I’ve partied that hard since… I can barely remember it.”

He dips his head to the desk and sniffs drawing the second line of cocaine into his other nostril—quickly rubbing under his nose his eyes blink rapidly and he gasps. “We could do that song, the one you hate—I will survive.”

“Oh my God, no! No, I fuckin’ hate that song. I am not doin’ that again. Shit… that reminds me, I think I do remember that night and that’s a hell to the no! Rhys, I’m not singin’ because I’m not doin’ karaoke.”

“Ahh… Ladies,” Rhys smiles as the door opens. “Welcome to my den of iniquity.”

He gestures around the rest of the large office as the long-legged shifter twins step into the office. Klaus follows carrying a karaoke machine which he places on the table in the corner, then scrabbles on the floor to find a socket. Plugging it in, he lays the microphones next to it on the table.

“Girls… let me introduce my brother; my twin brother.” Rhys grins.

Both girls giggle and wave as they strut across the room towards the boys. “Hullo again,” they reply in unison with a sing-song tone to their voice.

Digby looks at his brother. They exchange a wry smile, and Rhys circles the girls, checking them over. “My God, you two really are identical. I’m not sure how we’re going to tell you apart? Maybe we won’t, we’ll just share.”

The girls excitedly chatter with each other as Rhys pours them each a large glass of vodka. “I have to say… I was thinking the same thing,” the first of the dark-haired girls grins as she looks at her sister. “We were wondering ifeverythingabout you boys is the same. We may need to check.”

The second of the girls is less shy than the first, and she steps towards Rhys. Toying with the collar of his shirt as her hand grasps at his groin. “So… is this is your club? Do you own the whole building?”

“Oh yeah, it’s all mine. Sorry, I didn’t catch your names earlier or should I just call you sexy?”

“I’m Krystal and this is Kandice; Kandy for short, but you can call me whatever you want… Rhys.”

“And what about you?” Kandy hushes her voice to a husky whisper as she leans her butt on the desk. Picking up his vodka, she sips from the glass—the pink gloss of her lipstick leaves a lasting sticky pattern on the rim. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Um… Digby. Just call me Digby.”

He sighs and his eyes trail a line up the length of her legs: from the gold chain around her ankle to the patterned tattoo that circles the top of her thigh—not quite hidden by the hem of her dress—which is only just long enough to hide the tempting pleasure between her legs. Digby smiles and he can’t resist touching the smooth tanned skin and drawing a line along the colored ink tattoo, he teases his fingers further under the tight material. She responds to his touch by parting her legs—giving him her consent.

Digby grins, then in one shot he glugs back the rest of the vodka and smoothing his other hand along her skin, he hitches up her dress until he can feel the soft curl of hair and the wet warm tease of her pussy. “You’re a shifter, right?”

“Um-hm,” she nods.

“You ever been with an alpha wolf before?” Digby’s bright blue eyes sparkle with drunken lust as he investigates the fiery orange-amber of hers.

“Uh-uh, no. No, this would be my first time, with a wolf. So, you need to be gentle—I’ve heard wolves can get a little rough. I also hear they’re very well endowed, is that true?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out. Rhys, are we gettin’ this party started or what?” He then grabs at her head, dragging her mouth to his. At first, she resists; his grip is much stronger than she’d expected, and his musk smell fills her nostrils. The strong, heavy scent overpowers her shifter senses. It’s something she’s not experienced with shifter guys, but as his fingers playfully tease at her clit, she soon relaxes. Tipping her head back, she lets him nip small bites on her neck.

Digby glances across the room and from where he’s positioned on the other side of the desk, he can see his brother with her sister—Krystal’s already naked and on her knees at the side of the couch, her mouth wrapped around Rhys’s large pulsing cock. He’s laid back, having barely undone his pants; they’re half-mast around his hips, and he stares watching as Digby teases Kandy on the desk.

“C’mon on Ryan, get on with it. I wanna try her next and see if I can tell the difference between them.” He grabs at Krystal’s hair, wrapping it around his hand, and holds her against his groin—she moans as he thrusts his cock deeper. Propped up against the pillows he lounges on the couch sipping from the glass in his other hand, each circling lick of her tongue on his length makes him gasp.

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